


Always in a Bind

by hailsterek (foliearyden)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Hand Cuffs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foliearyden/pseuds/hailsterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A (soon to be) mini series of awkward Sterek sexual situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Official Duty

**Author's Note:**

> There is NO SEX this chapter, but I plan to write more chapters soon (with the potential of some action). Enjoy!

Stiles slid into the cafeteria seat directly across from Lydia, who was busy glossing her lips to maintain their signature frosted peach color.

“So, I have a problem,”  Stiles said.

Lydia snagged a napkin from the table and blotted at her lipstick -a girly habit that Stiles would never understand.  She then pulled out her phone and continued to act like Stiles didn’t exist.

Stiles frowned.

“Lydia-”

“Yes, Stiles, I heard you,” she responded, eyes glued to her screen, “What did you do this time?”

“Hey! _Scott_ is the one that catapults us into bizarre, life or death situations.  Me?  I’m a fixer.  An engineer of supernatural solutions.”

Lydia shot him a look.

"What?" Stiles asked, growing offended, "What's that supposed to mean?"

“Stiles, when have you not been in the middle of a predicament?” 

“I-”

“Stiles,”  Lydia sighed and placed her phone on the table, “you’re a terrific supernatural sleuth, but you’re also always in some sort of a bind -and that is not up for negotiation. It’s a fact.” 

Stiles huffed indignantly.

“So" Lydia asked, picking up her fork, "you were saying?”  

“Yeah, what I was _saying_ was that last night I might have borrowed a pair of my dad’s handcuffs to use with Derek -which went great, by the way, totally thrilling and,” Stiles glanced up at Lydia’s unimpressed face, “totally not the point of this conversation.  Right.  Well, after the sexy-fun-rendezvous at Derek’s loft, I went home without said very important handcuffs.”

“And? You went back to get them, right?”

Stiles stared blankly at Lydia.

“Please tell me that you, Stiles Stilinski, super-sleuth extraordinaire and Beacon Hill’s Sheriff’s only son, were able to deduce that the best way to retrieve the handcuffs would be to go to back to Derek Hale’s loft and get them.  The same Derek Hale, who, might I add, you’ve been having sexual relations with for the past four months.  Derek Hale, who handcuffed you to a bed last night and-”

“I handcuffed him,”  Stiles said, blushing slightly at the memory.

“You what?”

“I handcuffed him.  Ever heard of a power bottom?”

Lydia paused eating her lasagna for a moment to consider the information.

“I guess I can see that.  It completely alters the mental dynamics I’ve constructed of the two of you -you’re going to need to clarify some things with me about this later.  Anyways, please, for the love of everything sane, tell me that you went to his house to get them.  Please.”

Stiles hesitated.

“Stiles.  You are a _colossal_ idiot.”

“No, it’s not like that!”  He defended, “I already figured out that much out!  Jeez!  My problem is more about... the actual retrieval of the handcuffs.”

“Do you need me to reiterate the part about you screwing Derek for the past four months?  You’re allowed to go to his place, Stiles.  More than allowed.”

“No, I mean, it’s just that Cora’s been staying with him since he found her at the bank and Peter’s followed in suit for ‘pack reasons,’ or whatever.  I don’t think I need to remind you about what a complete and utter creep -murderous creep- Peter is. Not exactly jumping to be around the guy.  And Cora, well, Cora fucking terrifies me.  I didn’t know someone so short could be that assertive and terrifying-”

“Stiles.  Excuse you, but _I_ am plenty short and terrifying,” Lydia glared.

Stiles put his hands up in surrender. 

“True, but you like me.  Cora doesn’t, and she makes sure I know it.  She’s somehow managed to invent a way to be passive aggressive without actually talking, and when she does talk, it’s always her threatening rip my throat out!  With her teeth.  She sounds _just_ like Derek used to." 

“Stiles,” Lydia spoke very slowly, over enunciating every syllable,  “that’s because she likes you.”

Stiles flinched, “What?  No, she doesn’t.  She wants to kick my ass.”

“Well, she might want to spank it.  That’s a thing for some people.”

Stiles internally vomited himself.

“Lydia, can we not get into the details of me doing anything even remotely sexual with Derek’s incredibly terrifying little sister?  Please?”  Stiles pleaded.

“Fine. So, text Derek and ask him to be there when you pick the handcuffs up.  Or, better yet, ask him to bring them to you.”

“Yeah, I haven't headed over yet because Derek isn’t in Beacon Hills right now.  He’s negotiating territory dynamics with a pack up north for the next few days, and the way he explained it made it clear that leaving early would be the greatest disrespect -hence the really kinky goodbye sex.”

Lydia sighed.

“You are so difficult, Stiles.”

“I know, I know, but I need to get them back tonight before my dad finishes his shift or he’ll see they’re missing and then he’ll _know_.  I can't to give him another reason to want to lock Derek up or else he might actually try to.”  
  
“You mean another reason aside from the fact that you’re technically still jailbait?” 

“Totally and eagerly consenting jailbait that is only jailbait for another two months!  Either way, it’s best to make sure my dad doesn’t suspect we do anything but the most vanilla of activities, which he already assumes we do because, you know, Derek is _Derek_  and I have no self control and a massive sex drive-”

“Okay, yes, I get it.  We need to get the handcuffs tonight or your dad is going to lock you away in order to protect what he believes to be left of your virtue.” 

Stiles nodded in assent before pulling his bag onto the table. He dug around inside until he felt the crisp fold of paper, then pulled them out splayed them out across the table.  

Shit was getting real.

Lydia looked utterly horrified.

“Stiles, _no._  We are not sneaking into Derek’s loft through the venting system, or whatever crazy plan you’ve worked out!  Put the blueprints away.”  Lydia ordered.  

When Stiles didn't make any move to obey, Lydia reached out and pulled the heavy paper off the table herself.  
  
“Lydia!  Those were really hard to get a hold of!  Give them back!”

“Not until we come up with a slightly less ridiculous plan.  Preferably one that doesn’t involve pathetically sneaking into a house full werewolves that will smell us coming.”

“Are you saying we should just waltz in there?”

“I’m saying _you_ should should walk in the front door. _I_ have a date tonight.  Besides, how pathetic will they think you are if you need back up to retrieve a pair of handcuffs?  You run with wolves, Stiles.  Show them how tough you are.”

Stiles huffed.

“Remind me to never let you give me a pep talk again, okay?  They’re degrading, inspiring, and annoyingly persuasive.”  

Lydia smirked, the master manipulator that she was, and combed her fingers through her strawberry blonde hair.  

Stiles smiled back, realizing that he was, in fact, happy to have her as a friend.

 

* * *

 

Stiles pulled up in front of the familiar grey block of a building that contained Derek’s loft.  His stomach was doing uncomfortable acrobatics as he slammed the door shut and laid a hand on the hood of his jeep.  His precious Baby Jeep that he would quite possibly never see again.

“Wish me luck, old girl,” he mumbled, setting forward with Lydia’s words in mind.

Stiles, Stiles was a warrior.  He would walk into Derek’s loft like he owned the place, smile at Cora, grab the handcuffs and calmly walk out.  

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

He pulled out the key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. Stiles tried not to not think about the fact that this was the first time he was using it for a reason that wasn’t seeing Derek as he pushed the door open. No, Stiles definitely wasn’t thinking about Derek or how last night he was handcuffed to the wall, dripping sweat and thrashing while Stiles slowly wedged an extra finger inside him.   

God, that was hot.

“Stiles. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Stiles jumped, all horny thoughts flying out of his head.

Peter Hale stood before him in a deep, unnecessarily tight blue v-neck, his bulky arms crossed over his chest.  Stiles heart rate kicked up and he couldn’t help backing up a few steps.

“Uh, Peter, hey!  I’m just picking up something from yesterday.  I’ll be gone in less than a minute!”  Stiles said, running his hands through his hair and hesitantly looking around the place.

“Oh, and what might this item be that you are so desperate to retrieve?”

Stiles really didn’t like this guy.

“Me?  Desperate? Oh ple-”

“He came for these,”  Cora said, walking in from Derek's room.

She made her way towards Stiles, twirling the handcuffs between her hands.

Peter raised his eyebrows, "Kinky."

Stiles blushed and reached to grab them from Cora.

She didn’t let go.

“Now, just what do you think you’re doing letting my brother handcuff you?”  Cora hissed, eyes flashing yellow, “You should know by now how dangerous werewolves are.  How easily we can slip control -especially during activities where our heart rates are accelerated.  If something goes wrong, you’ll be at his mercy.  You won’t even have a chance to get away.  Hell, I can’t believe _Derek_ actually agreed to do use them on you.”

“He -he didn't,” Stiles stuttered, bumping into the wall behind him.

“Oh, really?”  Cora asked, stepping forward, “Are you insinuating that you manipulated him?  Or that you drugged my brother with wolfsbane in order to get him to play out your dangerous little fantasy?  Do you even understand the magnitu-”

“Ah, what? No!? We have totally awesome and _very_ consensual sex. No drugging involved whatsoever.  And, for the record, _I_ handcuffed _him._ ”

Peter let out a barking laugh and Cora blinked rapidly, eyes fading back to brown.

“What?”  She asked.

“Why does everyone find it so hard to believe?”  Stiles huffed, running his hands through his hair, “I’m an excellent leader, guys.  Plus, despite the tough guy act, Derek is a total pushover and really just needs needs to feel like -yeah, you know what? You don’t need to hear the reasoning behind our sexual logistics.  That’s Lydia’s department.  Basically, I’m the top and I do the handcuffing.  Kapeesh?  Can I have those back, now?  My dad is gonna kill me.”

“Sure, kiddo,”  Peter smiled, grabbing them from Cora and tossing them over.  “I think I like you.”

Stiles wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but managed a meagre smile as he took the handcuffs and bolted.

On the way back to his jeep he shot Derek a text,

**man ur family is fuckin strange**

 

 


	2. Privacy?  What Privacy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another awkward situation with our favorite boys. Enjoy!

Derek was on top of Stiles, his leg wedged firmly between Stiles’ thighs. Stiles’ heart was beating so fast that under any other circumstances he would have been having a panic attack.  

For someone who couldn’t sit still, this was the perfect activity; constant stimulation, movement and oh _god_ , Derek was really very talented with his mouth.  On Stiles’ neck.  Wow.

“Do that again,”  Stiles demanded, hands fastening in Derek’s hair.

“You mean this?”

A wet warmth enveloped his adam’s apple, followed by the sharpness of teeth.

“Yeah, _yeah_ , that.”

Derek hummed into Stiles’ neck, continuing to lavish it with attention.

Stiles ran his hands down Derek’s body, down to his firm ass.  An ass that Stiles caught himself looking at all throughout the day, and had inspired him to take up squats.  Hands in Derek’s pockets, Stiles began to knead down.

Derek slowly slid his hands down Stiles’ chest, hands resting lightly at his hips.  He unlatched his mouth from Stiles’ neck, raising his head to make eye contact.  

Stiles' heart lurched at the emotion in Derek's eyes, so naturally his body reacted wonkily too; he grabbed Derek’s ass in a sharp movement, pushing their erections together.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Derek grinned, eyes glinting.

Stiles blushed and squirmed, and Derek's pupils widened in response.

“What would you think about this,” Derek murmered, hands playing with the hem of Stiles’ shirt, “coming off?”

“I think that would -yes.  Shirt off.  Derek, I want you to take my-”

Derek pressed his mouth into Stiles’, hands pulling his shirt upwards.  They broke apart as Stiles worked to pull his head through the hole.

“Do you think that maybe you could, maybe, also take yours off?  I feel kind of like a zoo animal, being all naked while you-”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”  Stiles asked absentmindedly, his eyes focused on Derek unveiling his precious abs with a swift motion of pulling his shirt off.  “Seriously, how do you-”

“Stiles.  Shut up," Derek's hand clamped over Stiles' mouth.

Stiles eyes widened in disbelief; Derek was _seriously_  being a brat.  Stiles licked him, then remembered that Derek would probably enjoy that more than anything, being the weirdo he was.r  He huffed through Derek's fingers and gently bit down, trying to convey _hey please take your hands of my mouth you big grouchy jerk._   Derek didn’t let go, _and_ didn’t move to start kissing him, so Stiles wiggled his pelvis against Derek's.  

He could play dirty.  

Derek continued to stare blankly at Stiles pillow, eyebrows furrowed.  Derek didn't get distracted when they made out.  Something was up.

Stiles grunted loudly against Derek’s palm, trying to regain his attention.

“Stiles!  Shut _up_!”  Derek whispered furiously, hand tightening slightly over his mouth. 

Stiles paused his petulant yelling, confused by Derek’s sudden urgency.

“I thought you said your dad was at work today?”  Derek whispered disbelievingly, retracting his hand and jumping off Stiles.

Stiles froze, "Wait, what?  He is.”

“He’s here... and now, he's coming upstairs so see if you're okay,”  Derek supplied.

Right.  Stiles probably shouldn't have grunted so loud.

Derek jogged over to Stiles’ window and slung his legs over the sill.  

Stiles wistfully admired his boyfriend’s broad shoulders from his position on the bed.  

Derek turned slightly and caught Stiles’ line of sight.  He smirked slightly, his eyes raking over the fresh marks on Stiles’ neck in turn.

“Put a shirt on before he gets here.  You look like sex,” Derek chuckled.

He offered Stiles a final secretive smirk before finally departing from Stiles’ window.

Stiles quickly jumped into action, fumbling to grab the shirt on the bed and get it over his head.  He could hear his father’s footfalls now, coming from the hallway.  Stiles glanced at his computer monitor on his desk, his self reflection looking ridiculously turned on.  Sex hair and blush in firetruck red.  Jesus.

In a last attempt to seem innocent, he ran his hands through his unruly hair and flopped back into an unassuming position.

His door was flung open to reveal his father, in uniform, eyebrow raised.

“Hey, Dad!  How’s it going?  Did they let you off early?”

“Where’s Derek?”

“Uh, who?”

John leaned against Stiles’ door frame, arms crossed.

“Broody werewolf.  Guy you've been dating for six months.  Was once the main suspect in a homicide case.   _That_ Derek Hale.”

“Oh, him?” Stiles blushed,  “Yeah, uh, he’s busy today.  Doing... werewolf things.  You know, the usual.”

“I need to talk to him about a case I’m working on.”

Stiles huffed, “Oh, that’s sneaky, Dad, playing on my desire to help the force out.  Real lowball, but I’m not ratting Derek out.  If he was here, I mean, I wouldn’t rat him out.  Because he’s not here.  Because I know you disapprove of us, and don’t want him over when you aren’t here.  Totally on board with that part of it all.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I know he’s here.”

“He isn’t, Dad, I swear.”

John sighed, walked across Stiles’ room and picked something up.

“Then what’s this?”

It was his shirt.

“That’s my shirt.  No big, dad, I was just changing into-”

“And what is that?”  John asked, pointing at Stiles’ chest.

Stiles looked down.

_Crap._

“This, uh, this-”

“Is Derek’s shirt.  Your shirt is on the ground -and when I came home, there were _noises_ , Stiles.  Noises that I did not need to hear.”

Stiles blushed, mind faintly wandering to his earlier activities with Derek before making eye contact with his dad.  Right.  He was in trouble.  Stiles need to focus on that, not his boyfriend’s ridiculous washboard abs.

“Uh, I borrowed this from Derek earlier this week, and I was having some alone time, you know,”  Stiles fudged flailed desperately on his bed.

“Stiles, I know Derek is here.  Yes, I specifically said that _I do not want Derek over when I am not home_ and am upset that you disobeyed me, but my focus right now is on this case.  I really do need to consult Derek -it seems to be something in his expertise, and I’m running short on time.  So, please, can you ask him to come out of the closet?”

Stiles blushed, looking down shamefully, “He kind of already left.  He jumped out the window.”

John sighed, “Then please call him and ask him to come back.  This is important.”

“Uh, yeah, Dad.  For sure.”

“Alright.  I’ll be downstairs,” he said, turning to leave.

Stiles’ hands nervously picked at the hem of Derek’s shirt.

“Dad?  I’m sorry.”

John shook his head, smiling slightly, “I know.  After I find out what the hell is going on in Beacon Hills, you, Derek and I are going to have a little chat about boundaries.”

Stiles groaned, head falling into his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any errors this chapter; I was so excited to post it that I might have overlooked a few grammatical issues while editing! Feel free to kindly point out any that are particularly bothersome :)


End file.
